


My Fearless Warrior

by stardustsroses



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: ACOTAR - Freeform, ACOWAR, Cassian - Freeform, F/M, Mating Bond, Nessian - Freeform, Wings and Embers, acomaf, mates who take care of each other, nesta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 06:46:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14929241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustsroses/pseuds/stardustsroses
Summary: When Nesta doesn’t feel quite well, our favourite Illyrian commander comes to the rescue. Beware of the angst! Beware of the fluff! Beware of a teasing, cheeky Cassian!





	My Fearless Warrior

It had been pouring down for the last two hours.

The Illyrian camps were splattered with mud pools, the rain so loud and heavy that it seemed to cover the entire land in a cloud of hazy mist. Droplets of water were running down her temples, her jaw. Pieces of her hair had come undone from her long braid, curling around her face. Carelessly, she pulled them back. Far away, a clap of thunder seemed to shake the earth beneath her leather fighting boots.

He came running at her with a sword held high, like a phantom appearing out of the mist. Nesta Archeron raised hers, her jaw clenched tight, her fighting stance close to perfect. She struck. Once, twice. She met his movements with admirable skill, never loosing track of her surroundings, never loosing track of her opponent. Her breath came out in puffs, little clouds drifting through the air, but her steps were silent, her movements calculated, quiet, quick.

She couldn’t see the ground underneath her feet, couldn’t see more than six inches around her – she took that as an advantage. Moving through the mist like she was a phantom herself, a shadow among shadows, Nesta Archeron briefly confused her opponent, her steps too quick to be predictable, and whirled, appearing right behind him. Before he had a chance to even detect her presence, Nesta kicked him to the ground.

He landed right on a mud pool.

And then he burst out laughing.

Nesta scoffed. “You’re taking it easy on me.”

Cassian lifted himself up easily, lifting his head toward the rain so as to wash his mud-covered face. His hair was tied back in a bun, but some pieces had also come undone, dripping with dirty water. He wiped at his mouth, his smile as bright as a summer day.

Nesta was in a mood today. He could tell. And he was loving every minute of it.

“I’m not taking it easy on you, sweetheart,” he said, coming to stand in front of her. “You’re just getting too good at this.”

She frowned, shaking her head. “Do you think I can’t fight as well as I usually do? Is that it?”

“No,” Cassian said, not one bit affected by her tone. “If anything, I think you’re even better today.”

Nesta struck her sword into the ground, the muddy water holding it standing, and looked away, clearly irritated. Cassian smirked. In reality, he didn’t want to irk her even further – not at all. But it was just too good to resist. He loved her like this, truly, because he knew that he was the only one who was able to get her out of her moods. Usually, he’d start by annoying her even further, then she’d call him every filthy name her lovely, creative mind could think of, then he’d pull her close to him – so close that’d she’d feel all his muscles pressed hard against every soft bit of her – and he’d say Now, say that to my face, sweetheart. She’s repeat it, word by word, as if defiantly, as if waiting to see what he’d do, what he’d say, and then he-

“Bullshit,” she spat. “You’re holding back.”

Cassian drifted closer to her, slowly, like a predator provoking another, and touched her chin delicately. “Maybe you’re holding back, love.”

She eyed him up and down. Fighting leathers splattered with dirt, his face covered with it too, and yet every inch of him remained powerful and gorgeous. She’d seen the way the other females looked at him, whenever they came to train together, and it was an effort to keep from clawing their eyes out.

It drove her mad. The instincts.

And she couldn’t help it. He was hers, and she couldn’t have anyone else think otherwise. It went beyond her own reason, her own logic – the need to prove that she had a claim on him, and he had a claim on her, that they belonged solemnly to each other and no one else.

Nesta raised her hand to touch his cheek, wiping down the remaining dirt that hung there and, to his surprise, she lifted herself onto her toes and touched her lips to his. It was a fiery kiss – one that could potentially burn down the entire camp and everyone else with it, despite the rain coming down on them. In fact, Nesta swore she could feel the water sizzling on her skin as his hands roamed over the entirety of her body, not caring who saw.

All too soon, she pulled away and murmured: “I never hold back.” And before he had a chance to gather himself, her foot went behind his, and then he was falling back onto the dirty earth.

Damn her. Damn her filthy mouth.

She grabbed her sword, pointed it at his throat. “Again. And this time, don’t hold back.”

“Nes.”

“Do as I said.” Her tone wasn’t an order, but a request.

Cassian hesitated. Sighed. Lifted himself up, grabbed his own sword. “You know we can come back another day.”

“No need.”

“Nesta, sweetheart-”

“I said I’m fine, Cas!” She shouted.

They both stopped momentarily. But a heartbeat later, his sword struck hers again and again and again. Nesta could still feel it in his movements – he wasn’t giving her his all. Of course he wasn’t.

It didn’t mean she would hold back, though.

She focused on her footing, feeling the ground slippery now more than ever, and pulled her hair back once more. Keep going, she told herself. You are not weak. You are not weak.

The sky wasn’t clearing up and it didn’t seem like it would change anytime soon, but the mist seemed to get worse, her visibility was getting worse by the minute. She was losing track of her surroundings.

Focus, her mind repeated. Ignore the pain. It is nothing.

Her body screamed at her to stop. Her mind forced her to continue. She met every single one of his moves, despite the black spots that appeared in her vision. She shut her eyes momentarily, urging herself to keep moving, not to show weakness, never weakness. Ever again.

She had stopped. Her steps faltered. Cassian’s voice rang in her ears, but Nesta couldn’t make out the words. Couldn’t make out his figure moving closer to her, dropping his sword, dropping everything. The haze thickened, the rain got colder and before she could make sense of Cassian holding her, the world around Nesta slipped away.

***

Cassian flew them as fast as he could to the House of Wind. He knew the Inner Circle would be there – he was hoping they would.

He’d barely closed his wings when he came crashing through the opened glass doors, dripping and breathless. Four bodies immediately got up.

“Rhysand,” Cassian blurted out, his voice sounding like sandpaper. “Get Madja. Now.”

Rhysand took one look at the limp woman in his brother’s arms and didn’t hesitate – his wings spread from his back and he then was flying through the open doors.

“Cassian!” Feyre came to his side, her hands shaking, following him up to the rooms. “Is she hurt? What happened?”

His heartbeat rang in his ears. “She fainted. I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Mor opened the door to Nesta’s room quickly, letting Cassian through. Azriel stood behind Feyre, a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“During training?” Azriel asked. 

“Yes,” Cassian gently laid his mate down onto her bed, removing her boots and fighting leaders. He pulled her hair off her face. “Feyre,” he called, without taking his eyes off Nesta’s serene sleeping face. Feyre moved forward, urged by Cassian’s tone. “I need you to dry her. Warm her up.”

Feyre nodded, coming to stand by his side. Cassian watched as her his High Lady spread her hands before her, moving them slowly over Nesta’s body. Five minutes passed and it seemed nothing was improving.

“Can’t you do it a little faster?” He asked anxiously.

Feyre’s eyes were closed in concentration, her tone was calm. “Cassian, I’m trying not to set my sister on fire.”

“She’s alright, Cas,” said Mor, touching his shoulder. “Should I go get Elain and Lucien?”

“No,” said Feyre. “Elain will panic. We have enough of that,” then she pointed with her chin at Cassian. Now, looking closely, he could see that some strands of Nesta’s hair were completely dry. “Calm down, Cas. She’ll be fine. I have to warm her slowly or else I’ll raise her temperature and give her a fever.”

Cassian swallowed, his only response being a small nod.

“Go take a bath,” Mor suggested, a playful, yet comforting smile playing on her lips. “You look like you’ve crawled out of the ground.”

“I can’t leave her.”

“But you will,” a voice said from the doorway.

Cassian hadn’t heard Rhys and Madja approaching the house and found himself looking into the brown eyes of the woman who had healed him over the war. She stepped into the room, eyeing Nesta and continued: “It’s best if you let us take it from here, Commander. The girl will be absolutely fine.”

“But I-”

“I know you’re her mate, but right now, that young lady needs rest and tranquillity. And you need to take a warm bath or all you’ll see is your bed and tissues for the next week.”

“Come, Cas,” said Azriel.

It took a lot of protesting, but after watching Madja and Feyre working together on Nesta, Cassian finally let his brothers take him away.

***

When Nesta opened her eyes, the sun was still nowhere to be seen, despite the warmth surrounding her. She could hear the furious rain hitting the window of her bedroom, feel the softness of her sheets. They smelled like Cassian. Like burnt wood and chocolate.

His hand was on her freshly washed hair, running through the strands, caressing her scalp. She felt like she could sink into a deep sleep once more. Then his voice:

“Hey, sweetheart.” A whisper, more tender than anything she’d ever heard.

Nesta looked up at him, at his now clean face, his curly hair hanging loose, his white shirt clinging to him. He was sat next to her head, his back to the bed frame.

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

“Fine.”

“Are you sure? You gave me quite a scare-”

Then it all came flooding back to her. Nesta visibly cringed.

“I’m not dying, I’m on my period, you dimwit!” Her voice was strained, low. But not weak. Cassian took that as a good sign.

He smiled. “I know,” he said.

She hated that he knew. Hated that he could detect it, smell it. It was embarrassing – coming to him in the morning and having him look her over and just…just know.

“You should have told me you didn’t feel alright,” he said, his tone less than amused now. “I told you that we should’ve stopped, Nesta.”

“I didn’t want to stop.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m tired of feeling weak,” she spat. Nesta tried to sit up, only to be pulled right back down by Cassian. She gave him a look and found him frowning angrily at her.

“Will you stop with the bullshit for one second?” His eyebrows closed together. “And let me take care of you for once? Why is that so bad, Nesta? Let me be here for you, damn it.”

She just stared at him. Sort of in awe, sort of in defiance.

Cassian moved so he was facing her. “Why do you think you’re weak?”

“You treated me like I was. You are doing it right now.”

He shook his head. “I know how difficult it is to know your limits, Nes. I’ve been there. You know it. You and I, we’re the same in the department – we never let anyone else see our weaknesses. But there has to be a limit where you stop caring. You’re my limit. You’re my biggest weakness as well as my biggest strength. Do you know how terrified I was today?”

“I don’t need a lecture, Cassian.”

He grabbed her hand. “Look at me.” She did. “I let you see me. Why don’t you let me see you?”

She didn’t answer.

Cassian entwined their fingers. “You are not weak, Nesta Archeron. Letting others, letting me see your weaknesses isn’t weak – that’s strength. And you’re the strongest of them all, sweetheart. Your bleeding doesn’t weaken you – you weaken yourself by not taking proper care. Lucky for you, that’s why I’m here.”

She scoffed, but a smile bloomed. Cassian could tell – she was beginning to crack. “Lucky me.”

“Lucky you, indeed,” he agreed. Then he touched her cheek. “My fearless warrior.”

Her face softened. Then her nose scrunched up.

“Pain?” Cassian asked.

Nesta hesitated. But then a slow nod from her.

“Do you want me here? To help?”

Again, hesitation. But then, a nod.

“Tell me what you want. What you need,” he said.

Oh, what the hell, Nesta thought. She didn’t care, she was in too much pain to care. Besides, there was no one else in the House – none that she could hear. She thought maybe they all went away to give them some privacy – and Nesta was glad of it. She was in no mood to face her sisters, the rest of the circle.

“Lay with me,” she said. “You’re warm.”

Nesta pulled back the covers to let him in, and Cassian dropped his boots on the floor and obliged. Her mood instantly changed as she felt his hands pull her closer to him, rubbing soft circles on her back. He pulled the blanket on top of them both, kissing the top of her head.

“I brought you this.” He pulled out a foiled-wrap object from his pocket, handing it over to her. No, not an object – chocolate. That’s what she had smelled.

Nesta raised her eyebrows, smiling widely. Cassian smiled with her, wondering how on earth something as beautiful as her could ever exist. “I haven’t eaten chocolate since I was a child.”

“I know,” he simply said, watching her eat. Nesta opened the foil wrapping, delighting at the smell, and cracked a square. She let out a satisfying sigh as she chewed, closing her eyes. Cassian chuckled, “Good?”

Nesta nodded, placing another piece onto her mouth and onto Cassian’s, waiting for his reaction. “Thank you,” she said. “It’s the best thing I’ve eaten. Do you like it?”

“It’s okay,” Cassian shrugged, smiling wickedly. “You taste better.”

And to his delight, he saw a red tint covering her cheeks and neck as she smiled up at him. Cassian leaned in and claimed her lips.

It was distracting enough to make her forget about the pain, and intoxicating enough to make her head spin. The chocolate lay forgotten – she wanted him.

Cassian rubbed her sides gently, tortuously slow, under her night gown. The warmth of his hands did wonders to her pain: it relaxed her body, making her back and neck feel less strained; it left a trail of goose bumps all over her skin. He traced slow kisses over her jaw, making her sigh.

“Sometimes,” he whispered, “I can’t believe I get to hold you in my arms.”

Nesta opened her eyes, facing him. Her hand touched his cheek. Her voice was also no more than a whisper: “Sometimes I don’t believe it, either. Sometimes I think you might be a dream; too good to be true.”

“I’m not a dream,” he shook his head. “I love you.”

“And I love you,” she whispered back. She kissed him softly, gently and said against his lips: “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“That’s okay.” Cassian held her hand between their bodies, touched his lips to her knuckles. “Just make sure you don’t do it very often. You’ve given me enough heart attacks to last a lifetime.”

Nesta smiled. “You’re going to be such an over-protective father.”

She spoke before she realized the impact those words might have. Looking at Cassian, Nesta knew they had hit something deep in him. His smile subdued, his hand brushed her cheek. “Would you want that? In the future, with me?”

“I don’t know how to be a mother. I don’t know if I have it in me,” she admitted, her voice low. It was true – her mother had never really been a mother to her or to her sisters, not really. Nesta remembered running around their house, pulling at her sleeve and never getting the attention she wanted or needed. Neither from her father.

There had been this one time, Feyre had been just a small baby, when Nesta was chasing their mother around. She remembered she had been crying, although the reason why didn’t come to mind. Her mother paid no attention to her crying. Nesta thought that maybe if she cried harder, if she pulled harder, maybe her mother would notice. Her mother had noticed – she had turned to Nesta and pushed her back. And Nesta’s little fragile body had collided with the cold, hard stone floor. The image of the look her mother had gave her, and her back as she had walked away from her daughter was forever stuck inside her mind. Little Nesta had stood there for a long time, looking at the empty corridor her mother had left her in, and the tears had dried onto her face. Nesta got up, walked away. She didn’t remember crying to her mother ever since.

“Then is it completely out of the table for you?” Cassian asked gently, noticing the way Nesta’s eyes had darkened. Whenever she wanted, Cassian thought. Whenever she wanted to talk about it, she would. But he would not ask that of her.

“No,” she answered promptly. “I would not mind having children with you, Cassian.”

He smiled, so tenderly, so softly, that it broke her heart. She could see it, picture it as clearly as if it had already happened: two dark haired boys with light eyes, running around and causing all sorts of trouble. Was that the future she wanted for herself? Would she ever get there?

“You’re picturing them?” He asked, looking into her eyes, as if he could read her mind.

Nesta smiled. “Yes.”

“One day,” he said. A promise. “One day, my love.”

“Can you stay tonight?” She asked.

“I’ll stay for as long as you want me,” he whispered, “My love. My heart.”

“I want you here always,” she murmured, touching a piece of his hair. “I can’t bear it when you go.”

“Then I won’t go,” Cassian answered, stroking her sides. “I’ll always be here.”

Cassian lifted her chin up, and his lips found hers. So warm, so delicate, he thought. He’d spend the rest of his life doing this and never getting tired – of her lips, her body against his, her breath coming out in hard fragments when he found that spot on her neck. Or her arms curving around his neck, pulling him closer with all her mighty immortal strength. He would not get tired of this feeling – of her. Ever.

“No more chocolate?” Cassian asked, his voice teasingly low.

Nesta’s hands were tangled in his hair, her body flesh against him. She murmured, “You taste better,” and gave him a smile.

“Rest,” he said, touching his lips to her forehead and hiding a smile of his own.

“I don’t want to rest,” she said. “I want to kiss you.”

“Now, Ms. Archeron,” he reprimanded. She snorted at his mocking tone of voice. “What did I tell you about taking proper care? That includes rest.”

“Too late now,” she grinned.

“Maybe I should go, so you can rest.”

“No.”

“Oh, yes, I should definitely be going-”

“No.”

Her grip tightened on him. His smile grew wider. “What do you want?”

She made to kiss him, but Cassian pulled away, his eyes shining with amusement. Nessian frowned. “Fine.” She scoffed at him, turning her back on him. She scrunched her face at the pain that small movement had caused in her lower abdomen.

She felt his laughter through his chest, against her ear, as Cassian moved on the bed, gently pressing himself against her back. His devious mouth plastered kissed along her bare shoulder, her neck, below her ear. Nesta let out a deep sigh, then swatted at his face.

“If I don’t get to kiss you, you don’t get to kiss me,” she grumbled. “Jackass.”

“I thought you liked the teasing,” he said against her ear.

“Not right now.”

“Well, then.” He grabbed her chin, turning her face to him and giving her a deep, sensuous kiss that made her feel dizzy. When she made to wrap an arm around him, Cassian pulled away once more and smiled down at her. “Relax, now. I’ll still be here after you’re better. We can do more of that later.” And he winked. Bastard.

She would’ve protested, if her eyes hadn’t already been drooping on their own. Nesta gave him a seething look, then turned back around, purposefully pressing her backside hard against him. She also made sure to adjust her position several times – she needed to get comfortable, after all – which resulted in a lot more rubbing. Cassian let out a breath, and Nesta could feel how tense he was. Good. Let him suffer.

“Teasing, wicked female,” he murmured against her ear.

Nesta smiled.

The rain was still furiously hitting at her window as she closed her eyes. Cassian placed his warm hand on her stomach, gently massaging her skin whenever her body curled on itself and she found it hard not to groan. He’d place a gently kiss on her shoulder, telling her she’d be alright. After a few moments, she was. With the sound of the rain and her mate’s gentle, comforting touch, Nesta drifted onto a deep, satisfying sleep.


End file.
